b'A Home of Ones OwnUnder honeyed skiesOf new born spring,Occluded by the rising fog of steam,Rooted, we sat on upturned edges,Frayed blue against emerald,I broke into a sprintThrough cold, grey waterMirroring the clouds careful gestures,I watched them, from my vantageCross-legged and overlappingTheir hushed chantingAnchored to the breeze,Between them, awaited a hollowJust wide enough for meAva Dolan9'